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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305110">three lefts make a right</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebslem/pseuds/nebslem'>nebslem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stealing other peoples' ideas while i procrastinate on my own [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Claustrophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sexual Harassment, Traumatized TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:55:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebslem/pseuds/nebslem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TW: Alcohol; light sexual harassment</p><p>Tommy sneaks out to party, desperate to be the kid he never got to be.<br/>But things don't go as well as he hoped.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stealing other peoples' ideas while i procrastinate on my own [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2225421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>384</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmoPan00/gifts">EmoPan00</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was supposed to be a fun night. The music was loud, there was alcohol, some people were even vaping. This was the true high school experience, it wasn’t going to get any better than this. 

So why was Tommy breathing slowly to calm his racing heart? Why was he counting his fingers and the tiles on the floor to keep himself grounded? 

He’d wanted to come, hell he even snuck out to get here. He was finally going to grow up, drink some, let loose. So why was he so uncomfortable?</p><p>It probably had to do with the kid who’s been pestering him since the moment he got here. He was just being friendly, even if his jokes weren’t friendly. God and the way his breath smelled like alcohol, Tommy couldn’t help but gag in disgust every time the kid opened his mouth. 

It started off a small, light-hearted conversation,<br/>
“Hey, I’m Ryan what’s your name?” “I like to play Minecraft, what’s your favorite wood? Please don’t tell me it’s birch.”<br/>

But somewhere along the way, he started getting as gross as his breath.<br/>
“God, look at the girls, they’re just showing off their bodies they should respect themselves some more,” followed by, “I wouldn’t mind if you whored around like them though, that’d be a nice sight to see.”</p><p>Saying Tommy was uncomfortable would be an understatement. He couldn’t get away, he could smell the alcohol and his breath and the vape and he could feel his hands caressing his arms and he couldn’t breathe. He tried, he tried so hard to get the guy to back off, to leave him alone. To let him enjoy what he can before he breaks down but he couldn’t. 

His hands invading Tommy’s privacy, rubbing up and down his arms while he couldn’t do anything about his disgusting breath and the loud music and the people and the alcohol and the hands and the way his breath stinks of alcohol. </p><p>He was so ashamed, he couldn’t do it. He had snuck out in the middle of the night on a school night, whilst being fostered by a family he actually didn’t want to leave, only to be texting his brothers asking if they could pick him up. Tears welled in his eyes in embarrassment. He couldn’t even sneak out without failing and now he’s going to bother everyone’s nights because of his stupidity. He shouldn’t have ever snuck out, the regret runs deep. </p><p>Maybe it was because Phil was lenient because Tommy had yet to see him get angry despite living with him for a year. 

Maybe Tommy wanted to push his limits, smash all of Phil’s buttons to see what kind of abusive monster Phil was when he was upset and how much it would take him to be angry. 

Or maybe after spending years in the foster system sneaking out would somehow give him all the years he missed out on being a child. 

Whatever the reason was, Tommy was sure he’d be yelled at but at least it wouldn’t get physical. Even if Tommy had lived with Phil for only a year, he knew that no matter what Phil would never hurt him, he cared. </p><p>So clutching his phone, he sought out to text one of his brothers. He swiftly pressed the first contact he saw.<br/>

Wilbur<br/>

But before he could type out his cry for help, he had for some reason forgotten about the guy he was so desperate to escape from. Feeling his breath on his ear, Tommy spun around to see him on his left pushing his side into Tommy’s side. 

This kid clearly had never heard of personal space before.<br/>

“What are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re leaving so soon,” He whispered in his ears, lacing his words with fake disappointment. Tommy’s heart leaped out of his chest as he struggled for what to say, what to do. 

He can’t text Wilbur with this guy creeping down his throat, he’d be fucked right there and then. He’d probably take his phone and break it, start getting in Tommy’s face about how disappointed he was in him, that he considered Tommy a friend and he was just going to stab him in the back. Tommy’s mind scrambled for something to say, his heart nearly breaking from the anxiety.<br/>
“I’m asking my brother if he could bring donuts from his nightshift once I get back, I just suddenly have this random craving,” He settled on and texted his brother just that. 

It made sense, for a lie at least. It was a code word his family had come up with after some guys were following Techno home one day. While Techno was intimidating, he wasn’t meant for any kind of confrontation. He didn’t want to lead the guys back to his house and put his family in danger, so he went to a small, yet busy, coffee shop and called Phil out of earshot from the guys following him. Phil soon came 10 minutes later, enforcing a code word policy and that everyone should have their locations on just in case. 

Tommy laughed at the idea, he was a big man, but now he felt no more than grateful for his father’s caring nature. </p><p>Wilbur<br/>
Hey can you bring donuts from your nightshift?? Kinda hungry when are you getting back again?</p><p>It was 1:05 am, the chances of Wilbur seeing that were low, but not zero. Tommy would take it. And, his ringer was on. There was no way Tommy would miss a response from Wilbur especially with his anxiety this high. </p><p>Suddenly a hand reached out and touched his face and Tommy had never felt so disgusted. His thumb traced his cheekbones before moving down to his lips, and Tommy watched his eyes flicker down to his lips. 

Tommy didn’t have enough time to react before a red cup was ushered on his lips, forcing him to take a gulp of the nail-polish remover beverage. His throat burned as the drink found its way down to his stomach and time stood still. The taste was the worst part. The burning the obnoxious smell. 

He thought he was fine, he could be around alcohol just fine. So why was the taste fucking with him? Why could he hear past foster parents talking about they finally found a solution to keep him down as he passed out from alcohol he was fed. It was years ago, he was fine, he is fine. He was normal like everyone else, no one else had trauma and neither did he. 

He was just a kid who wanted to sneak out and have fun, not have panic attacks over things that didn’t happen to other kids.<br/>
He could feel his breaths become erratic as he could no longer support himself, he was going to fall like some drunk on the sidewalk at two in the afternoon.<br/>
The same hand that had caused this feeling snaked its way around Tommy’s shoulders, holding him up.<br/>
“I didn’t know you were this lightweight” He mused. There wasn’t a single thing about this situation that Tommy felt safe in. Everything was so wrong. He was light-headed with a pounding headache and he needed to lay down before he passed out. The lights further blinded him, he was definitely fucked over.<br/>
“Alright, let’s get you to a bedroom,” He heard the guy say, forgetting about his arm around Tommy’s frame. He sighed in relief, maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all. Sure he got him in this position in the first place but bringing him to a bedroom to lay down was probably his way of apologizing and Tommy couldn’t have been more helpful at this moment. 

He smiled at him, ushering at weak “Thank you” before letting him lead the way. This situation felt familiar, someone putting him in a predicament only to take control to help Tommy with the said predicament. Maybe that’s why he suddenly trusted this guy, the sense of familiarity was reassuring. </p><p>So when Tommy managed to stumble into a bedroom with the help of the guy, he was nothing but confused when he was suddenly shoved into a closet. He felt his heart being to race again, hands shoving him off of the floor to get out. But before he could even stand on his feet the doors of the closet were shut and somehow all the oxygen was trapped outside.<br/>
“H-hey what gives?” Tommy cries, suddenly sober. He takes it back, familiarity wasn’t reassuring. It happens again and again, Tommy was pathetic to think the closest punishment would never happen again while living with Phil. He should’ve known better than to sneak out and this is his punishment. He deserves this. 

His hands make their way to his ears as his legs and roughly tucked underneath his chin. It was going to happen again. He was going to get hurt all over again and it would be his fault in the first place. </p><p>“C’mon, what did you think I meant about going to a bedroom? Don’t tell me you were thinking of doing something naughty with me? I don’t mind, don’t get me wrong, but toying with you first would be more fun, no?” He heard, muffled from behind the door. 

He didn’t pay much attention to the words, they meant nothing to him. But the way he laughed, he was mocking Tommy. Tommy was pathetic, and he was being laughed at. He’d always been laughed at, mocked for situations he didn’t put himself in. It was the guy’s fault he was in the closest in the first place, and now he’s just laughing at him.</p><p>Why are they all the same, the same voice the same mocking tone? 

He can hear it, the yelling, the banging, he never wanted to be in a closet again. And for the first time in the night, tears made their way down his face as he scratched his face. It was too loud, the voice in his head yelling at him saying he deserves this. 

He can feel the vibrations of stomping echoing throughout his small two-bedroom foster house as his foster parents yelled through the door of the closest, stating what a disappointment he was. He heard the keys lock the closest door and he heard his foster dad scream at his foster mom. He could hear the way his voice slurred as a result of drinking in the day, he heard the way his foster mom cried and screamed as her hair was grabbed by the hands of the drunk who locked him in his closet. 

He never wanted to be back here, why was he back here? In the closest. He promised to be a good boy, he ate less so his foster parents wouldn’t have as many dishes to wash, they were scared their money-making kid would off-themselves at the sight of the knives, so he was never allowed to do the dishes. He made his bed every day because if he forgot to fold his blanket the right way he would get put in the closest again after being hurt. 

Only bad kids go in the closet, was he still a bad kid? He did everything he could but to be fair he did sneak out. </p><p>He felt a pair of arms grab him and pull him in a hug, who was it? Who was holding him? Who was cradling him as if they let go he would fall and disappear. Was it his foster father? The one who put him in the closest in the first place? 

He opened his eyes again and again, desperate to see something else but it was the same. The same dark closet while bruises littered his body but someone was holding him. 

He felt the outside air brush against his hair, he felt himself be lifted into a car. But he was still in the closet trying to escape from the screams and the yells. 

He can hear it, even as the cool night brushed through his shoulders, he can hear his foster father yelling for him, pleading, “Tommy, Tommy. You’re okay you’re safe, can you hear me?”<br/>
This wasn’t right, this wasn’t familiar. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He opened his eyes and just like that the darkness faded and in front of him was his two very concerned brothers. And before Techno and Wilbur could call out to him again, Tommy shoved his face in Wilbur’s chest silently crying. The only indication of him crying was the shaky shoulders and slight hiccups, as well as the tears going down his face. 

His brothers whispered comfort words he wished he heard when he was in the closet, rubbing circles on his back. </p><p>Soon after Tommy calmed down, they explained what happened and how Tommy was suddenly in the car. 

With Techno starting the car, Wilbur started off saying how he was already awake when Tommy sent the text, but the crust under his eyes said another thing. Apparently, he had responded about five minutes after the text and only grew more concerned when Tommy hadn’t responded, especially since Tommy wasn’t one to miss a text during a high-stress environment. Tommy didn’t believe him, but to be fair he did completely forget about his phone and pulled up his conversation with his brother.</p><p>Wilbur<br/>
1:05 am: Hey can you bring donuts from your shift?? Kinda hungry when are you getting back again? </p><p>1:12 am: Yeah sure, I’m almost done I’m closing up right now<br/>
1:15 am: Tommy?</p><p>Before Tommy could let guilt claw at his chest for making his brothers worry, Wilbur continued. He talked about how he ran out of the house, Techno dragging behind him knowing that this was important, and rushing to where ever Tommy’s phone said he was. 

Wilbur talked about how he immediately felt nauseous walking into the house, calling for his name. Somehow Tommy’s location on his phone was specific enough to point to a certain area of the house, which is where Techno found some kid who looked like he was allergic to metal laughing at a closet door with sobs coming from behind it. 

Tommy heard how his brothers explained that they pushed open the door, leaving out the details of what they saw behind it. They explained how Tommy dissociated, only to “wake up” in the car, which explained how Tommy was suddenly in the backseat of his brother’s car after being locked in a closet two minutes earlier.<br/>
“Are you going to tell Phil?” Techno asked, speaking for the first time since this whole ordeal started. Techno was never a person who was great with comfort, however, he was a great listener and that’s all that Tommy needed. 

But, this didn’t mean his question didn’t confuse him. There were a few rules in the house, one of them being whenever someone has a panic attack Phil needs to know. Panic attacks weren’t something to be taken lightly in their home. And Tommy was sure that his panic attack was pretty bad, after all, he disassociated through the entire thing.<br/>
“Yeah we won’t tell Phil if you don’t want us to, you just need to promise you won’t do it again.” This cleared some things up for Tommy, they clearly weren’t talking about his panic attack. Could it be sneaking out? But that shouldn’t be an issue since they were going to talk about the party anyway, so what could they be talking about.<br/>
The only logical explanation could be the sneaking out, but did this mean that they were going to break their rule about talking about panic attacks? Was Tommy really not worth the stress? Were they going to brush this whole thing aside and pretend it never happened? 

Some part of Tommy was thankful maybe he won’t get in trouble, but the other part was disappointed in himself. He should’ve known, why would they want to talk about what he experienced in the closet and burden them with his mental health, he wasn’t worth-</p><p>“We’re talking about alcohol,” Techno cleared up. This made more sense, Tommy let someone force him to drink, it’s only natural he’d be upset. If only he didn’t put himself in the situation then this wouldn’t have ever happened. </p><p>“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Tommy muttered, too quiet for Techno to pick up on but loud enough to startle Wilbur.<br/>
“What do you mean you didn’t drink on purpose, how can you drink accidentally?” Wilbur chuckled, the idea of someone mistaking vodka for water in his mind.<br/>
“Tommy, what do you mean? You didn’t drink on purpose?” Techno asked, immediately shutting up Wilbur’s chuckles. Tommy felt Wilbur’s gaze on his face and it was only when Tommy felt tears on his hands did he realize he was crying. Eventually, the walls came loose and Tommy explained everything, stuttering through it all desperate to keep his snot in his nose,</p><p>“I-I didn’t mean to. Stupid Bryan or-or Ryan or some stupid shitty name was t-talking to me and I didn’t- I-I didn’t like the way h-he was talking and h-his hands and his-his hands were all up in my f-fucking face and his fingers were s-stubby and his hands were on m-m-my arms and the-the music was so loud and there were s-so many people and the music ww-as so loud and his f-fingers were on my face and it was on my l-lips and it was so gross and his breath smelled so bad and gross and disgusting and there was so much alcohol and his hand was still on my a-arm and then I texted Wilbur and r-right after- after he just."

"He shoved a cup in my face and it smelled like nail-polish r-remover it tasted like hand-sanitizer and it wasn’t my first-time I-I had alcohol so I d-don’t know why it made me so l-light-headed and d-dizzy and then he offered to take me to a b-bedroom and I said o-o-ok b-because I thought he was looking out for me but then he just pushed me into a closet and my head hurt and I could still h-hear the music and I know you’re disappointed but I p-promise I won’t do it again I shouldn’t have put myself in the position and I-”<br/>
Tommy was effectively cut off from his rambling when Wilbur pulled him into a hug, feeling his tears cascade down his face and wet Tommy’s shoulder, not that he minded.<br/>
“It wasn’t your fault,” Wilbur whispered, almost as if he were too scared to raise his voice. Like Tommy would shatter if Wilbur’s voice went up an octave. </p><p>He didn’t know how long they sat in the car together, at one point in time Techno came to the back and hugged them and maybe Tommy could forget about the closet and the alcohol and the loud music and the hands and the closet.</p><p>Even if for some reason he gets locked in a closet again, maybe his family would be there to hold him while he cried, while he shakes when he remembers the dark and the walls closing in.<br/>
Maybe now he’s safe, maybe now he’s loved.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur's (and kinda Techno's) perspective from the last chapter</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wilbur felt his heart drop when he saw the message. </p><p>He wasn’t even going to check the notification. He originally heard the notification go off at what he assumed to be three am, debating on whether or not he should look at it or if it should wait until morning. It’s not like he was going to go back to sleep anytime soon, it would take a good half hour to get him to pass out and a quick text can’t hurt. </p><p>Reluctantly Wilbur stretched across his bed, reaching for the phone that sat on his night-stand. Turning the device to his face, he squinted his eyes at the bright emitting light wondering if this was a mistake. </p><p>It was not.</p><p>His eyes widened as he stared at the message, from his brother, using the code word they had come up with.<br/>
He knew something was wrong the moment he saw the text, Tommy, the kid who always insisted he was a “too big of a man” to use codewords, was now using the same codeword. </p><p>Jumping from his bed, not caring for the way he instantly felt the cold, he ran to his little brother’s room. He heard his heart pound in his chest as he desperately flung the wooden door open, hoping to see his little brother sound asleep on his bed. </p><p>He wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur, and probably Techno, saw Tommy as a “normal kid” with a “normal childhood”. He never watched his mouth around adults, he never jumped back in fear at sudden movements like Techno did, so Wilbur had just assumed Tommy had gotten over whatever got him into the foster system in the first place. </p><p>The foster system was different for everyone, Techno’s and Wilbur’s experiences both proving the statement. </p><p>However, Wilbur and Techno were naive.<br/>
Almost as if he were reminiscing, Wilbur recalled a time where he was irrationally upset at Tommy, screaming something along the lines of, “No one wants you here, you’re just a kid Phil picked up from the place where kids like you belong,” </p><p>Of course, this was not true and everyone who heard the ridiculous statement knew it, except for Tommy. He all but expected Tommy to freeze up, drop the glass he was holding only to stutter a string of apologies as he desperately tried to pick up the pieces of glass he dropped, cutting his hands in the process as if his life depended on it. </p><p>Maybe to Tommy it did. </p><p> </p><p>So ever since then, Wilbur never brought up Tommy’s place in the family, constantly reassuring him that he was loved and that he wouldn’t be sent back. Wilbur made it his duty to protect Tommy, whether it was out of guilt or love, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Tommy was his brother, and Wilbur was going to protect him. </p><p>Which is what drove him to sprint to his car, Techno running behind him talking him through the panic that bubbled in Wilbur’s stomach. </p><p> </p><p>Techno hadn’t known what was going on, just that it was urgent since Wilbur didn’t bother not trying to stay quiet to keep his family asleep. In the car, Techno could see his brother’s panic, he could feel the anxiety pool in his brother’s stomach, he could hear the heaves of air passing through his lungs- a sorry excuse of breathing. And to top it off, his brother was going twenty over the speed limit, it didn’t take a blind man to know Wilbur was not okay. </p><p>Before he could think, his hand reached out and placed it on top of Wilbur’s shoulder, “You can’t help anyone while you’re panicking like that, breath with me Wil, in for four- hold for four- out for four. C’mon deep breaths,”</p><p>A smile masked his face at the sight of his brother breathing evenly. </p><p> </p><p>However, that smile was instantly wiped out once hearing about the situation. The first thing on his mind was his little brother’s safety, the last was scolding the kid for leaving in the first place. </p><p>The house reeked of alcohol and weed, Techno almost going nauseous at the stench. It had been a few years since he was exposed to the drugs, however, the memories laced behind the stimulants will be forever ingrained in his mind. </p><p>Wilbur felt the same, coming from drug-addicted parents would do that to you. As a fellow foster kid, he was sure Tommy had the same experiences they did. </p><p> </p><p>The music was loud, but all Wilbur could focus on was his pulse throbbing from his neck. His hands shook, they were numb, but Wilbur couldn’t pay attention. Memories of hugging Techno trapped underneath the bed while they shook in fear as they heard their parents' footsteps echo through the petite house, memories of Techno brushing tears from his face as Wilbur’s death grip on Techno’s hand was the only thing keeping him grounded, all resurfaced just from the smell of the stupid drink. </p><p>He couldn’t imagine what Tommy was going through, and looking at his twin it was obvious he couldn’t either. </p><p>He pushed and shoved through the crowd of teenagers and young adults, sick to his stomach. His hand was somehow attached to Techno, and if Techno had noticed he didn’t say anything. He faintly registered Techno pulling out his phone, dragging him towards a bedroom. </p><p>Despite the blaring music, the only thing Wilbur could hear was the muffled cries behind a closet door. He felt the ground move under him and wind brushed through his face and suddenly, he was staring face to face with his little brother. </p><p>He was a mess. Wilbur’s eyes widened at the state of his little brother, of his Tommy. Of the boy who he promised to protect for the rest of his life. He looked broken, tears streaming down his face and snot dripping onto his lips. He was curled into himself, hands grasping at his curly blond locks, rocking back and forwards muttering, “I’m sorry,” “Please don’t hurt me,” “I’ll be good” over and over again. </p><p>Wilbur felt sick, and not because of the alcohol.</p><p>“Tommy, Toms, can you hear me?” Wilbur pleaded, desperate to bring his brother out of this state, trying not to think of what people had done to cause Tommy to be like this.<br/>
Tommy looked so far away, his eyes were unfocused as he pushed into himself some more, Wilbur knew Tommy wasn’t there. The scratches on Tommy's face irked him. </p><p>He was angry at himself for being thankful Tommy wasn’t aware enough to feel Wilbur carrying him out the door, Techno hot on his trail. And everything passed like a blur, adrenaline finally wearing off. </p><p>The utterly-silent boy was shaking like a leaf in his arms, thankful that his brother was okay. He remembered his promise to protect Tommy, but holding the broken boy in his arms Wilbur couldn’t help but feel guilty.<br/>
He failed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've never been drunk so Tommy's experience was entirely made up I have no idea how accurate this is, as well as his panic attack. I've never had one, especially one linked with PTSD and abuse, I just hope this is accurate and if it isn't constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. </p><p>The original prompt was centered around claustrophobia, but I spun it around and made it a trigger because I do not know how to write claustrophobia (not me acting like I know how to write PTSD episodes any better). </p><p>Also, I made this from @EmoPan00 prompt, thank you for the idea! Some bits were also inspired by @Numanum :)</p><p>(yes we are going to ignore the fact that Tommy knows what hand-sanitizer tastes like)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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